User blog comment:Biggren/The Mice of Wintor/@comment-5343292-20120812192729/@comment-2246928-20150708021721

The weasel nodded, doing as he commanded with a spring in her step and a faint smile on her cracked lips. That hedgehog... Harr, she could not wait until sundown, when she'd swiftly descend upon that fresh chest of treasure and pick each and every one of his good teeth out for future use... Her abused gums ached eagerly at the prospect.